


Haunting

by Laramidian_Phantoms



Series: When So Many Have Died [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dissociation, Grief/Mourning, Harassment, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medication, Panic Attacks, Therapy, psychiatry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:22:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5621986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramidian_Phantoms/pseuds/Laramidian_Phantoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander experiences a dissociative panic attack while working on a case with Aaron. Martha is a cinnamon roll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunting

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of personal experiences with dissociative panic attacks. If you are triggered by descriptions of such events or discussion of anything in the tags, please keep yourselves safe.

Alexander gasped as he leaned over the sink, arms shaking as he tightened his grip on it. Another sob tore through his body as reality blurred in front of him. He couldn't tell if it was merely because of the tears streaming down his cheeks and getting stuck in his stubble, or if he was too deep into the rabbit hole again.

I still have time, he thought. It doesn't have to be like this. It's been months.

Months. It had been months. How many months? One… two… trois…

He heard a distant thud. His rear end hurt. Someone somewhere was crying. His voice was starting to get raw. He was far away. Everything was blurry.

***

“My name is John,” the young, freckled man in front of him said. The bass of this trap song pulsed through the building, but it was no longer rattling Alex’s bones. He was focused on this new friend. He was intelligent, charming, and adorable.

“Alex,” he responded back, smiling.

Things blurred again, and when he opened his eyes John was pressed against his body, gently kissing his jawline. All he heard was his own sighs.

***

Alexander opened his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. He could still feel John’s breath against his cheek, and the tearstreaks down his face were cold. He closed his eyes.

***

“How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?” The psychiatrist that Burr had recommended to Alexander was looking calmly at him.

“For the past month,” he responded. He looked at the wall and saw the medical certificates. They merely said Peg Schuyler. Peg tilted their head, their curls catching on the collar of the suitjacket they wore.

“What triggered them, do you think?”

“John,” he quietly responded. “He left me suddenly and he was… they found him… Hudson…” Alexander went quiet.

***

Alexander slowly stood up. I can do this, he thought. He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyelids were swollen and there were teardrop engrained into his chin thanks to his stubble. He opened the mirror cabinet and went for the hairbrush, pausing to stare at the medicine he hadn't taken in two weeks. Zoloft.

***

“So the hallucinations and episodes don't happen when you are taking the Zoloft,” Peg asked, raising an eyebrow. Alexander nodded. Peg turned back to their computer, typing in the drug’s effects on him.

“Well, that's good to hear. Are you still going to the-”

“I can't do it, still,” Alexander replied. He knew Peg was talking about the grief support group. The last time he went a few weeks ago, he had dissociated while someone was talking about their child’s suicide. He wasn't going to go back. He couldn't.

“Okay,” Peg said, turning back to Alexander. “Do you have any idea of what might help?”

“Well, Burr is letting me help with one of his divorce cases, which should help as a distraction, hopefully,” he responded.

“I'm glad to hear that,” Peg responded, smiling gently. “So Aaron believes you're doing better?”

“I guess,” Alexander responded. “I can't tell if I'm actually getting better or not, though.”

“Have you looked into individual therapy, perhaps? I can give you some recommendations,” Peg responded, turning in their chair to face Alexander. He shook his head.

***

Alexander was shaking his hair out of his face after combing it. The door suddenly opened. He jumped back, and Aaron Burr was standing in the doorway, key in hand.

“I heard you sobbing, and you weren't responding to me knocking on the door,” he said, running a hand over his closely clipped head. His voice sounded crisp, and Alexander realized he hadn't been able to hear anything since he… fell? His rear was saying he had fallen, hard. He vaguely remembered it.

“Yeah,” he responded, looking down into the sink again. The ceramic seemed to blur into the metal of the drain, and Alexander opened his mouth, although for what he wasn’t sure.

“...Do you know where you are, Hamilton?” There was a silence. Alexander couldn't remember. There was a void. It wasn't until Burr cleared his throat that Alexander came back. He felt the hairtie around his wrist, and he went to work putting his hair into a bun to distract himself.

“Alexander, answer the question,” Burr said, worry weaved into how he said Alexander's name.

***

“Answer the question,” John sobbed, lower lip quivering.

***

“No,” Alexander whispered. Burr sighed.

“What do you-”

“John,” Alexander mumbled, “I love you, please, believe…” He trailed off, staring blankly.

***

“No you don't,” John screamed. “If you did you would see that I needed you, and you weren't there!”

“There was traffic, I couldn't get home any faster. Please, I love-”

“Maria. You love Maria. Not me,” John sobbed. “I saw the emails she sent you. You would have deleted-”

“I can't delete entire email chains from clients just because they're laced with innuendo and flirtatious-”

“IF YOU LOVED ME YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD HER TO STOP,” John screamed back. He pushed Alex aside and ran out of their bedroom. Alex whipped around and followed John.

“John, please,” he called after John, who was grabbing his coat from the closet. “John,” he said, grabbing a sleeve. “I'm worried-”

The scream that echoed from John's body stopped Alex in his tracks. He drew back, and John opened the door and left in the thunderstorm. Alex ran after him into the nearby subway entrance, calling out John's name over and over. But he had left his wallet in the apartment, and as John boarded a train Alex was stuck behind rigid turnstiles, unable to chase his husband.

***

Burr closed the bathroom door as Hamilton began screaming. He rushed through the lobby and flipped the sign on the entry door from “Open” to “Out for Lunch”. Thank god it's almost 12, Burr thought, and he pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. Martha Washington was at the top of his speed dials for emergencies like this. He put the phone to his ear and the dialtone began automatically. A kind woman on the other side picked up.

“Dr. Washington’s office, how can I help you?”

“Hello, I need to speak to Dr. Washington immediately,” Burr quickly sputtered out, trying to block out the sound of Hamilton's screams.

“I'm sorry, she just went to lunch, I can give her a message-”

“This is a Rochambeau,” Burr said. He could hear clattering on the other side of the line.

“Hamilton?” An older woman was now at the phone, and Burr sighed in relief.

“Burr,” he said. “Hamilton is-” Burr paused as the bathroom door opened, Hamilton sobbing loudly and collapsing on the floor. “Shit,” Burr muttered, rushing over. He was shaking and hyperventilating. “He’s hyperventilating,” Burr said quickly.

“Put me on speaker,” Martha said gently. Burr took the phone from his ear and pressed a button along the side and set it down near Hamilton. He stepped back, watching with worry. Burr knew he couldn’t help, not at this point. The last time he had tried to he acquired a very nice bruise on his cheekbone.

“Alexander? Alexander,” Martha gently said over speaker. Hamilton looked at the phone and his breathing slowed. Burr stared at the ceiling, waiting out the storm.

***

Alexander couldn't focus. Everything was happening all at once. There was screaming. Someone kept falling and the world around him kept suddenly lurching. John was stroking his sides, kissing his lips… No beat, no melody, he kept thinking amidst the commotion. Everything was loud and quiet all at once, he kept fading between the bathroom and the bedroom. Or maybe they were the same place. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t bring John back. He couldn’t find John, the police…

“Alexander,” a woman’s voice broke through the swirling void. Alexander felt the commotion still. Fingertips danced around his cheek as he recognized how fast he was breathing.

“I want you to breathe with me,” the woman said. Martha, he thought. Martha’s here. “Breathe in,” she said calmly, counting to four at a standard pace. Alexander did his best to slow his breathing to that point, but he nearly blacked out. His body tore into a sob without him realizing.

“It’s okay, Alexander,” Martha calmly reassured over the phone. “I’m going to keep counting at this pace, and once we get there we’ll slow down a little more, okay? I want you to tell me what color the wall is, when you can.” Alexander whimpered and sobbed again as Martha kept counting. “One,” Inhale. “Two,” Exhale. “Three, fo-” Inhale. “One, two,” Exhale. He stared at the wall, trying to name its color. It was dark, or was it? It was too colorful to be grey. But it wasn’t brown, either.

“Ready to go a little slower, Alexander?” Martha’s voice shook his concentration enough to realize that he was breathing slower. He hiccuped.

“Mm-hm,” Alexander muttered, slightly nodding his head. The carpet scratched his ear a little bit.

“Okay,” Martha responded, staring the counting a little slower. Alexander followed, occasionally hijacked by a hiccup. He closed his eyes, bringing them cool relief through his eyelids. When he opened them again, he could clearly see what color the wall was.

“Martha,” he weakly called out.

“Yes, Alexander?”

“The wall is taupe,” he said quietly, and he heard a chuckle from the other side of the room. He whipped his head “upwards” and saw Burr leaning against the back of one of the couches. A nice, off-white couch with a slight floral design shimmering on it.

“I’m glad to hear,” Martha said over the phone. Alexander looked towards the phone, which was a few inches away from his forehead. He started to lift himself up with his arms and a wave of exhaustion hit his body. He gently let himself back down and swallowed, his throat dry and raw.

“Burr, can I get some water, please,” he weakly asked.

“I’ll be right back,” Burr responded, and Alexander heard the front door to the office open and close. Martha cleared her throat over the phone.

“How are you feeling,” she asked. Alexander closed his eyes. His throat ached, his face felt tight and swollen, and his hair was tickling his necks and cheeks. The hairtie had failed, evidently. He would find it later.

“Myehh,” Alexander groaned.

“Do you think Burr can help you back to your apartment?”

“Yeah,” Alexander responded dryly. Burr opened the door holding a ceramic mug and walked over to him, staying a few feet away.

“Alright, is he in the room now? I would like to speak to him,” Martha said calmly. Burr looked at Alexander, who looked back up at him.

“He’s here,” Alexander replied. Burr raised an eyebrow and pointed to himself. Alexander nodded and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He couldn’t feel John’s hands or lips on his body anymore. But he could feel how tense his shoulders were.

***

Burr picked up his phone and set the mug of water down in its stead, turning off speaker phone. He walked over towards the couch and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello Aaron,” Martha said. “Do you know what happened?”

Burr sighed. “We were reviewing a case that involved some very intense internet harassment, and Hamilton just kinda… stumbled out of the room and into the bathroom.” Burr felt a pang of guilt. “It wasn’t until he slammed the bathroom door that I remembered that the internet harassment was a trigger.”

“Ah,” Martha said, clicking her tongue. Burr massaged his forehead with his free hand, sighing deeply.

“I am so sorry, I’ve probably undone-”

“It’s alright, Aaron,” Martha reassured. “This recovery was quicker than the last time this happened.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t directly trigger it then,” Burr snapped back. He was angry at himself. He had sworn to Hamilton that he would never get triggered in the office again. And Burr had failed.

“What’s done is done,” Martha replied. “the best we can do is let him rest in safety. Can you make sure he gets back to his apartment, or do you have a client?”

“Lunch just started, I can walk him back,” Burr replied, looking back at Hamilton. He was sitting up now, setting down the mug. Half of his hair had fallen out of the messily-done bun at the back of his head, and his light blue dress shirt was now wrinkled. Burr pursed his lips.

“Good. Tell him to call me when he gets home, I want to schedule an appointment for tomorrow. Do you know if-”

“He left his meds in the office bathroom two weeks ago, but I went on a business trip the next day. I didn’t manage to get them to him,” Burr said, guiltily. Hamilton looked at him, his eyes swollen. Burr lightly waved, then turned in the opposite direction.

“I’ll let Peg know,” Martha said, and Burr could hear typing on her end. “Just get him home for me, alright?”

“Yes, Dr. Washington,” Burr replied. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she responded. “And please try to not beat yourself up too much, Alexander is grateful that you try to keep him busy.” Burr half-smiled and shook his head.

“He’s gotta do something,” Burr said. “Anyways, I better go,” he quickly added, looking back at Hamilton. He was resting his forehead on his knee. “Gotta take him home.”

“Alright, take care, Aaron,” Martha said, and Burr hung up the phone. He walked over to Hamilton and extended his hand.

“Come on,” Burr said gently, causing Hamilton to look back up at him. “It’s time to take you home.”

Hamilton nodded and took Burr’s hand as the man lifted him up. Burr watched as Hamilton went into the bathroom and undid his half-done bun and redid it, then reached into the mirror cabinet and took his pills out of it. Burr went back into the office and slid Hamilton’s notebook into the satchel on his chair. Hamilton came in and grabbed the bag from him, and Burr slid on his jacket that was hung on his chair behind the desk. Hamilton cleared his throat. Burr turned back, watching Hamilton put on his suitjacket.

“Thanks,” the younger lawyer muttered. Burr smiled.

“No problem,” he gently responded. He ushered Hamilton out of the room and out the front door of the office, the door clicking behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at @laramidianphantoms (for writing) and @rambleton (for Hamilton). This is my first work on here, please let me know how I did!


End file.
